Title: Uisge Beatha

Author: McJude

mcjude@sbcglobal.net

Just a little treat for March 17.

Fandom: Hercules

Pairing: Hercules/Iolaus

Rating: R (slash)

Archive it anywhere -- I'd like people to read it.

This story was written for the 2003 Booze Fug-H Quest. It story takes place between seasons five and six of Hercules. Iolaus has just returned from the dead, again, and Hercules has arranged a small celebration at Alcmeme's house.

How do you rate slash stories? I think it is probably R. However, I will put a "romantic mush" warning on this one, if you don't like those kinds of stories, better not read it. I do write comedy, and those other kinds of stories, but when the characters are Herc and Iolaus, I can't help myself.



Uisge beatha
By: McJude

Everything is at once too close and too far away. I am in a place where I have always felt safe and comfortable, yet it might as well be a foreign prison or a cave where a hydra lives. I am just not used to it all. . yet.

There is a lit candle on the table, but the rest of the house is dark. It seems so small. Two children grew up here, three if you count me. We had to always be underfoot. Of course Alcmeme never complained. We stayed her a few times after Jason moved in. How could he have moved here from a palace? I guess the answer is easy. For love. For Alcmeme.

Hercules was building a fire, stacking logs and kindling in the darkness. I offered to help, but he wanted me to sit and relax. Relax? He is still concerned about my wellbeing. I want to tell him that I hadn't been sick, I'd just been dead. Doesn't sound so reassuring when you say like that, does it?

I pick one of the large black olives from a dish before me and let it melt on my tongue. There are just a few. I know he is as hungry as I am yet he didn't take one for himself. The richness and saltiness are comforting. I forgot how good olives could be. I take another and eat it even more slowly. I could use some water, or some wine. I wonder if my mouth is dry because I am here alone with Hercules, or if I am just thirsty.

He places two delicate white bowls on the table. I wonder if he is going to make soup. I can't believe that he has learned to cook. I have memories of the smell of Alcmeme's stews. She used to put vegetables and herbs from her garden into her stews; they always smelled and tasted so wonderful. I roll the bowl between my hands; it is so thin that I can feel it warm with the touch of my palms. I am afraid that if I hold it too tightly it might crack or break.

"Nice bowls, Herc. Got something to put in them?" He's been ignoring me. Digging through cupboards, moving things, as if he were searching for a hidden treasure in his mother's house.

"That's what I am looking for, Iolaus. And they are not bowls, they're cups."

"Cups."

"Mugs, kylix, kanthoros."

"What could you drink out of these, they're really small. Where'd you get them anyway?"

He mutters something I think sounds like Xena.

"Ah, here it is." He has moved some dried flowers from nook on a far wall and has extracted a medium-sized flagon, made of pottery, and sealed with wax. "I'm glad Jason kept it for me."

"You didn't trust him."

"Can't be sure. If he knew what was inside."

"What's inside?"

"Uisge beatha."

"Sorry, you're going to have to translate that for me. Herc."

"Water of life. It's from Eire. Had it a while. Been saving it."

He peels the wax off the top of the jug and removes a wooden plug. Then he pours an amber liquid into the two white cups. Like a fool, I grab mine and drink it down. I said I was thirsty. The ends of my jaw hurt, my throat burns, yet the pain and warmth are not unpleasant.

"Life you say. I'd say it was death water. "

"You're supposed to sip it, Iolaus. It's not water."

"You think I didn't realize that when I drank it? What is it?"

"It's something they make on Eire. The Celts make a sour ale out of barley and heat it. . . .

"When you heat ale Hercules, you lose the alcohol and the flavor."

"Exactly, then they capture the fumes and cool them and this is what comes back. Of course it is clear and sharp, like that Raki they drink on Crete, but the Celts keep it in barrels over the winter, or even longer. The longer they keep it the better it tastes."

"Didn't taste bad, I sort of liked it. Could I have another?"

"I can't think of a better person to share this with, Iolaus. I never dreamed. I guess I dreamed.

Damn it, it is so good to have you back."

He hugs me. I can't believe it. For the past three days, days when we were supposed to be on the road to Thrace but instead had retraced our steps back to Thebes for something Hercules had to share with me, he has been prone to these hugs. Not that I mind, a full body hug from the big guy is quite wonderful, but it is not like Hercules at all.

Now we sit, sipping on this liquid that whose effects I can begin to feel in the strangest places -- the tip of my tongue or that little piece of skin that hangs over my throat. I've never had this effect from ale, or at least never had it so quickly.

Hercules pours one drink after another and matched me as I drank each of them. I wonder if his fingers and toes are feeling the same way.

"You never told me about these cups? Where did you say you got them?"

"They were my mother's." He seems hesitant. "They came from the east. Supposed to use them for drinking tea."

"I vaguely remember tea. I liked the drink Alcmeme made with the dried herbs and flowers. But where did she get cups from the east?"

"Xena," he mumbles what I thought I had heard earlier.

"Xena?"

"Yea, she gave them to mother when we were. . . we were. . . dating."

Normally that would have hurt. It hurt when my best friend hooked up with the woman who had used me to try to kill him. Even when he convinced me she had changed, I was always a little hesitant with her. The idea of Xena giving Alcmeme a present of household goods was way beyond what I could think, even if I hadn't been drinking "uisge beatha." I say nothing.

Oh my god, I just had a feeling I haven't had in so long I almost forgot. I can't believe I forgot! Two whole days back and this is the first. . . It's usually once every five minutes for me, thinking about it anyway. I guess being dead did dull all of my senses. This is really not the time and place for THESE feelings to come back.

"Herc. . . " I'm not really sure what I am going to say. I am excited. Damn it, I am getting quite excited, but normally it isn't something I would share with Hercules. He knows, of course, we've been together for a long time and I tell him stories about the women I meet. But there are no women around. Just him and me. Maybe I was thinking about Xena. Nah, she stopped turning me on a long, long time ago.

"What?"

"Got anything else to eat?"

"I was lucky to find the olives. There might be some cheese, but no telling how moldy it would be. Jason' hasn't been here for a while."

"He's at the academy, right?" I thought I remembered him telling me that the first night when we were talking. Catching up on what had happened to the people I knew. He told me so many stories over the past two days, as if he had lived a lifetime in my absence. I want to hear all the stories, but sometimes they run together and get confused.

He pours us both another drink. I could go for another of those hugs right now. Maybe not. If he hugged me he'd realize. . . I watch the candle burning in his eyes. I've missed those eyes, that smile, those arms.

"Is this stuff magic, or what, Hercules." He seems taken aback by that comment.

"You're our resident expert on magic, Iolaus. What do you think?" He is smiling. His voice makes me feel more confident, like he really cares what I think.

"Well this magical water of yours seems to make you notice places you didn't know you had. Makes you think about . . . things. Makes you forget about places that hurt. Makes you feel places. . . Gods, I missed you, Hercules." I am shocked when he reaches over and wipes a tear that is trickling down my cheek away with his finger. I reach for his large hand and hold just the finger, damp with my tears. "I think I'm blabbering."

"Blabber, blubber, whatever you want, Iolaus. I know this is hard for you. I hope this helps."

"It would help if you put your arm around me. I want you close to me." I have no idea what he is going to say about my suggestion and am very surprised when he just complies silently. We drink another cup, silently, lifting our cups and clicking them together before we drink.

"I haven't told you everything about Eire." His voice is calm and reserved, the kind of voice he uses when he is either going to tell a lie or tell me something I don't want to hear. "I have to tell you Iolaus, you have to know."

I may have to know, but right now I don't want to hear about it. All I want to know about this far away place with spirits and mysteries is the mystery of the spirit I am drinking. Those once-every- five-minute-thoughts are becoming even more frequent.

"I met this woman."

Ok, this is going to be really, really fun. He is going to tell a sex story to a man who hasn't cum in . . . immediately my mind is in bed with Nebula making the most wonderful love I can remember. Why had I forgotten that? I was in love with her, body, mind and soul. I honestly thought about leaving Herc and staying with her to rule the country. I was in LOVE. Forgive me Aphrodite, I was in love and you had nothing to do with it. He hasn't told me a thing about Nebula during any of his stories. I wonder where she is, and if I ever will see her again.

"She was a cute little thing, about your size, with a temper to match. She was half-god. When I met her she was under the spell. . . . .

I don't really listen. I have my own story to tell. A beautiful Sumarian princess who takes total control of our love making can fill up my mind and take me places I enjoy a lot more than some story about some little foreign woman I have never met. Once in a while I glance over at Herc and see that he still talking and try to listen. He seems to have been serious. I wait to hear about how they got married and how she died. The women stories with Hercules don't change a lot.

"Anyway we both realized that there was something that needed us more. She went home, I stayed here. I saw her once again, but it was different. I never thought I would hear from her again until this jug appeared. The note said it should be saved for something special."

"At least I am special." I run my hand along his heavy-woven-leather-covered-thigh. We usually only touch each other when we are hurt. I am hurting. I was dead, for gods' sake. Now I ache. .

"Yes, you are special, Iolaus. I never realized it." He poured two more cups. I'm not sure I need any more. I'd just as soon keep this moment and not get any more drunk. I notice one of his hands is on my thigh. I turn and look him in the eye. He is questioning. I know what I want to answer, but am afraid that he has really asked something else.

"I think my lips are numb." How is that for a line from a man who has been dead for an extended time? Haven't lost my touch, have I?

"I don't know, are they? Let's test." He gives me this foolish look and then leans over and kisses me. I'm not kidding. He kissed me. Not this tentative testing-the-sensitivity-of-my-lips kiss, but a big, full, grab-the-back-of-my-head kiss with tongue. I wrap my hands around his chest and hold on as if I am going to fall into the abyss of Tartarus. I can't believe it. Hercules kissed me.

When it stops, he stops and pulls back so we . . I can breathe, I have no idea what to say. I can't believe that he kissed me. If you can just imagine what it is like to have been with someone for this long, to think about him, to be with him night and day, clothed and naked, arm and arm, and wonder. I remember a few times when we were really drunk or really stressed and we would run our hands over each other's clothed bodies, but we have never kissed. At least not this kind of a kiss.

"Herc?" Ah, what the hell, Iolaus, this may be your first and last chance. Just do it! "There are some other parts of my body that are also numb." Stupid, corny, but directly to the point. My hand is already in my crotch, and his are too.

"Does this mean?"

"What ever you want, Iolaus. I'm ready. I realized.. . ."

Suddenly I had this awful thought. He had spent the last six months with a man who looked like me, but who was different. . . a jester. You know what they say about those theatre people. I wonder if they were lovers, and he is just trying to relive . . . this is Hercules, Iolaus. If he never tried
anything with you, all those nights when you hung around his neck, drunk as a skunk and muttered about women and men and men and men. He'd wash you off and tuck you in bed, and find himself a place on the other side of the room or the fire.

He's silently removed my clothing. My dick is hard and erect and he has his large hands around it.

"Doesn't look real numb to me." He says with a smile and drops to his knees.

Guardian of the light Iolaus, reporting to the other powers: Bliss is having your cock in someone's mouth. Someone you love. Someone whose mouth is hot and moist from drinking "uisge beatha." He doesn't suck like a beginner, which gives me pause. I so do not want him to tell me some story about some man in his past that he has kept secret all these years. His brother, Iphicles? His other brother? Jason? Joxer? The Jester? Why am I so hung up on the Jester? I decide his ability comes from eagerness and not experience, or at least I convince myself that.

He manages to remove his clothing while he is sucking me. Not sure exactly how he does that. Those leather pants are difficult to get off. I used to accuse of them of being the protectors of his chastity. I know a few women got them off, but usually not until they were married, or at least in love. Here he is naked before me, and we're not going swimming. Which is a good thing, because cold water would do some serious damage to what I am watching.

"Now it's my turn, and I've got to warn you Hercules, I AM good at this."

We are on the floor in his mother's house, in front of the fire. The hard floor with nothing but our cast off clothes for padding. We wrestle and rub a bit, and kiss. I'm still hard, but damp. He can't keep his hands off me. What was in that jug? What magic did those Celts bottle? I don't realize until he is in my mouth and cums almost instantly. Not sure the big guy ever did this before. I didn't have to be good. I did have to swallow.

He jumps up, almost shocked, and pulls me to my feet. He walks over and pours two more cups of this water of life. I wonder how drunk Hercules is. What if I want to do more? Will he stop me, or . . .

Then it dawns on me. Hercules doesn't drink. He swore off it years ago. Only at weddings to honor the united lovers. United lovers. I like that sound. We are reunited. Lovers. The word trips off my dulled tongue, but is never fully vocalized.

I am sure my body language is as confused was what is going through my mind. I stumble on a chair in the dark and he grabs me. Arms around my naked waist and pulls me to him. I'm so short it hits me in the small of my back, but damn if it doesn't hit me. The big guy's got wood again.

"Are you always this hard, this fast?"

"Must be the uisge beatha." He said with a reassuring smile.

"This woman. . . who sent it to you. . . what did she say it would do to you?"

"I had some at a wedding in Eire once, just a couple of glasses. It was very nice. Everyone drank it and sang sad songs about people they loved. I thought of you. I liked the way it made me feel. She did, too. But the note that came with this jug said to save it for a special occasion, for a time when I was with someone special, when I wanted magic to happen. I got it and I hid it. I never thought I would drink it. Except maybe at someone's wedding. . .

"But when you came back to me. . . and then stayed. . . I knew Iolaus . . . there was only one person I wanted to share this with. . .

We are sitting on these hard wooden chairs, around a table, naked. The jug appears to be half empty, or half full. Hercules's long hair is hanging
around his face and tears are running down his cheeks. He's drunk. I'm drunk. I'm horny as Ares at a vestal virgin convention, and he's got this big log calling out my name. It's not a pretty site. We drink another cup in silence.

* * * *

At some point during the night we manage to leave the table, bank the fire, blow out the candles and move to the bed that Alcmeme and Jason used. The sex never went any further. I didn't even cum. We were content just to hold each other and kiss and try to blend our skins together without having to rely on any of those inconveniently placed holes and projections. We both knew what we wanted and needed -- at least that night.

Morning comes and we are starved and there isn't any more food than we had the night before. Hercules goes to see if there is anything growing in the garden, even a few berries, and I, of course, go out in search of a not-to-be-found rabbit. I wonder if his head feels like mine does, throbbing
and aching. Like my dick was last night.

The amber liquid in my cup this morning is herbal tea; he had found Alcmeme's stash. It helps a little.

"Last night, Herc. . . was. . . "

"You remember last night. I don't remember much. I remember telling a long story and . . .

Like the fuck he doesn't remember. Who is he trying to kid? I feel hurt.

"It was a nice night, Hercules. Something special. . . something magic . . ." I am not going to let his pseudo-prudishness ruin what was a wonderful night.

"Special. . . magic. . . what did it do to my head?"

"So you're going back to only drinking at weddings, I know."

"Gods, no, Iolaus." The look on his face almost frightened. Had last night been that difficult for him?

"Not even going to drink at weddings?"

"No. . . Not that. . . I was supposed to be at a wedding . . . this week. .."

"Well, I think preventing the end of the world would be an acceptable reason for a delay."

"Two days from now. . . in Attica."

"Attica?"

"Queen Niobe, she's getting married. She sent an invitation to you and I accepted. I figured I had to tell her in person that you were dead, and wanted to do it before her wedding."

I don't know what to think or say. Another woman I loved marrying someone else, and I don't give a flying fuck. It bothers me a lot more that he is downplaying last night like he can't remember what happened.

"Well, we still have time to get there, and you don't have to worry about telling her that I am dead."

"You going to come with me, I'll understand if you don't want to go."

"No I'll go. . . ."

"Do you think we should take the rest of jug of Uisge beatha?" he asks. I can't read his expression.

"I don't think I could take a headache like that so soon." I turn and walk away. I am unprepared for the swat of a rolled up rag across my leather-clad butt.

"I'd like to think. buddy, that it will be more than your head that will be aching when we drink that stuff the next time. A soft royal bed, clean sheets, and some of the best oil Attica has to offer. I'd think your ass might be hurting a bit, too. So watch it." He grabs me, pulls me to him, and kisses the top of my head.

I reach down and grab his ass and squeeze. "Same to you, Herc. Same to you."



McJude
February 11, 2003